


Drunk In Charge

by navigatorsghost



Series: Truce'verse [2]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One)
Genre: "totally down for it but didn't want to say so" would be more accurate, Drunken Shenanigans, First Kiss, I can't really tag this dubcon, M/M, implied/inferred consent, truce'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-26 21:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15010145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navigatorsghost/pseuds/navigatorsghost
Summary: Letting Galvatron and Rodimus Prime try to settle their differences by going out drinking together was always going to end badly. Cyclonus and Ultra Magnus just weren't expecting it to bethiskind of badly. (Neither was Rodimus, but he's not complaining.)





	Drunk In Charge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raisedbymoogles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raisedbymoogles/gifts).



> I originally wrote this in 2005 as a Valentines gift for raisedbymoogles, back when it seemed like we were the only people on earth who shipped this pairing. She loved it so much that she demanded I post it for a wider audience, so I figure it has a place on here too.

"You," Rodimus Prime said, carefully and deliberately, "are not drunk enough."

He gave the mech across from him an owlish stare, and got back a joyous, cutting-sharp grin and a bright flare of amusement in the other's narrowed optics. "I'm exactly as drunk as I ought to be, Rodimus. A pity the same can't be said of you!"

Oh, that stung. He straightened up in his chair, trying very hard to stop it escaping from underneath him - it seemed to be determined to drop him on the floor, and he wasn't at all sure he wanted that to happen when his nemesis was looking at him with quite _that_ expression. "'S not fair," he said. "Unicron gave you hollow legs." He waved his finger to emphasise the point. "Admit it!"

Galvatron laughed out loud, a ringing, infectious sound that made Rodimus blink and then grin in irresistible empathy. "Nothing of the sort!" the Decepticon Emperor retorted, still chuckling. " _You_ just can't hold your energon!"

"Look, I'm sober enough to-!" He barged to his feet with some nebulous intention of exacting penance for that insult; and with malice aforethought the universe slid gleefully out from under his feet, and for a horrible second of total mental sobriety he realised that he was just about to humiliate both himself and the entire Autobot cause by falling face down drunk in a public bar-

And then there was something pressed against his chestplate that definitely _wasn't_ the floor, and powerful hands caught his arms and a pair of crimson optics dipped close enough to his that he could have kissed their owner - no, bad thought, bad thought! He blinked in embarrassment and tried to pull away, but the hands held him firmly. "Wha'?"

"I _told_ you so," Galvatron said archly, shifting position to get his left arm around Rodimus's back. "Now come on before you make a fool of yourself!"

Rodimus was sure that if he could only stop to think for a minute, he could come up with any number of good answers to that. The problem was that he didn't _have_ a minute, because he was being half-dragged, half-carried out the door of the bar, and as they stepped out into the night the sudden drop in temperature made him shiver distractingly as his overenergised systems tried to adjust.

Except that he wasn't cold _everywhere_ , because his entire right side was pressed up against Galvatron and the heat that was soaking into his plating _there_ was almost overwhelming. And - oh, no, not even for purely practical considerations was there any possible excuse for him to lean his head on Galvatron's shoulder. He wasn't even going to let himself _think_ about doing that. Oh no.

Determinedly, he pulled himself free from the other mech's steadying grip - he staggered as he backed up, but then his back hit the wall and he managed not to fall. "Galvatron-"

And he _knew_ he had intended to say something sensible and responsible and Prime-like; something that would have somehow made it completely _okay_ that he was drunk enough to count his wheels twice, in a back alley on a neutral planet with an equally drunk Decepticon warlord, and wasn't even sure how he'd wound up here. Only, as he started to string the words together, Galvatron took a step out of the shadows and turned his head, and Rodimus felt everything he'd been intending to say dry up and fall down his throat, along with what felt like his own laser core being swallowed back into place.

Because he'd seen Galvatron poised almost exactly like that once before, and that time, they'd been duelling for the fate of the universe. And both of them had changed since then but Galvatron's smile and the light in his optics were the same, and the sudden choking rush of fear and awe and envy and worse that flooded Rodimus's being was the same too or maybe even more so. He felt his jaw go slack, and knew he was staring, and mentally tried to blame the excess energon for his sudden desperate need to buckle at the knees. He wasn't...

And Galvatron moved, prowling closer to him, _grinning_ at him in a way that somehow implied a whole world of things that Rodimus would have sworn - until a moment ago - that he didn't even know existed. "Well, Prime?!"

"I-" and that sentence didn't fare any better than the last one, because Galvatron didn't give him chance to think it, let alone say it. All that Rodimus's unsteady processors had time for was to register the sudden whining thunder of Unicronian aero thrusters as Galvatron lunged at him, and then the universe spun off its axis for a wrenching, sickening, exhilarating moment before cold steel slammed into his spoiler and pure living fire pressed itself against his breast. He gasped out loud, thrilled to his core with reckless terror. " _Galvatron-!_ "

Galvatron regarded him, still grinning, from a range that should have been far too close for comfort. "Don't look down," he advised, and with a quick dip of his head, covered Rodimus's mouth with his own.

It crossed Rodimus's mind to push him away, but several considerations intervened. One was that he'd just realised that the ground was no longer in contact with his feet and the only thing securing him above a several-storey drop was Galvatron's goodwill, and while he'd been pinned to walls before in his time, this was the first time he'd ever been pinned at the _top_ of one. Another was that Galvatron had managed to trap his wrists in such a fashion that he probably couldn't get the leverage anyway.

And the third was that - oh, Primus - his mortal enemy was kissing him. Kissing him, in fact, with a combination of talent, enthusiasm and sheer fire that was rapidly turning every processor and relay in his body into a small puddle of molten silicon. And his mind was reeling and his engine was racing, and he could hear himself whimpering and the only way this situation could possibly be worse would be if he had the option to do anything about it.

The fact that he didn't was the deciding factor that made him tip his head back and open his mouth.

***

The huge, black tangle of broken concrete and alien vegetation in the middle of the Old Quarter had once been some sort of public square, but in a district that hadn't heard of urban renewal for a century it was now merely a good place to hang out if you could take care of yourself and didn't want to be found. Both these conditions applied to the two mechs currently lurking under the edge of a vast, fallen swathe of bent sheet metal that had once been a public advertising board. For the most part they were merely blacker shapes against the smoky, neon-laced night of the Quarter, but between them flickered a pinkish glow that picked out the angles of their faces and threw deep shadows into the crevices of their bodywork. Two pairs of optics, one red, one blue, stared furtively into the night - both of them tracking the telltale gleam of moonlight on amethyst and amber paint.

"I _didn't_ see that," Ultra Magnus said at last.

Beside him, his companion nodded in understanding. "Neither did I," Cyclonus growled. "Trick of the light."

"Nothing to see," Ultra Magnus agreed. He looked down into the depths of the energon cube in his hand, and then raised it in salute. "See you at the bottom," he said wryly.

Cyclonus nodded acknowledgement, and snorted as he lifted his own drink. "I have every intention of getting there ahead of you, Autobot."

There followed the kind of companionable silence unique to those who are drinking to get drunk. It was finally broken by Ultra Magnus tossing aside his empty energon cube and quietly asking: "Why do we do this?"

Cyclonus's face was half in shadow, but Ultra Magnus could still see the slight twitch of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "Need I answer that?"

He had to laugh. "No."

"I thought not."


End file.
